


Where are you Christmas?

by PotatoKraken



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatoKraken/pseuds/PotatoKraken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hogwarts AU: Marianne Lafayatte decides to remain at the castle for the Holiday’s to avoid confrontation with her ex, Roland Fafner, and his family. She finds she’s not the only one that doesn’t seem to be feeling the Christmas Spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bah Humbug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marianne Lafayatte must tell her sister some sad news about the holidays...

The soft chill of winter breezed through the castle corridors. Students hurried to get to their final classes before they could scurry home for the holidays. The castle was a light with christmas cheer and everyone seemed to have taken in the spirit of the season. Well, not quite everyone…

Marianne Lafayette scowled as she yanked her robe more closely around her, heading for the Great Hall. Oh how she hated the cold. It was her least favorite time of year. All the snow and chill, everyone giddy and filled with nauseating amounts of “love and joy.” The whole thing was tired and downright sickening. Now, Marianne liked a good bit of holiday warmth, but year after year of watching couples use the time of year as an excuse to shove their “love” down everyones throats? No thank you.

At sixteen, the young Gryffindor was scorned by love’s sting. At a very young age, she had fallen desperately and foolishly in love with a childhood friend named Roland Fafner. He was handsome boy whose family had moved to Godric’s Hallow from America when Marianne was only six. The families had hit it off immediately. Both were pure bloods, both rich and powerful old wizarding families, and both sets of parents were distinguished members of the community. The Fafner’s had been particularly supportive when Marianne’s mother had died…

She had grown up with Roland and had a crush on him. He was very handsome and charming, but he wasn’t much else. Marianne was young and foolish and fell for the way his hair bounced softly above his brow and his toothy smile and his twanging accent. At the time, they were all pretty valid reasons. When they entered Hogwarts, they were sorted into the same house and in their third year, become a couple.

Unfortunately, Roland was more than just handsome and charming. He was a manipulative, sexiest, unworthy, cheating, lying little git. Those would be a few words she’d use anyway. He spent of their relationship trying to convince her that girls shouldn’t be tough, they shouldn’t play qudditch, they should become wives of the house and support their rich, successful husbands. The icing on the cake was, last year, Marianne had planned to ask him to the yule ball with a boutonniere she’d made herself out of beautiful primroses, only to find him making out with Aldrina Shaw behind the statue of the one eyed witch.

Marianne had been closed off ever since. The idea of love was almost repulsive to her now. She had lived so many years forgetting who she was and the thing’s she wanted. She decided to stop caring what men thought and to be whoever she wanted. But, sadly, it had made her bitter and cold toward most. She was top of her class in dueling, had an aptitude for defense magic and a natural inclination for herbology, and she was a fantastic flyer. Not that she’d play for the house team while Roland still had a spot on it. Too bad to. She could fly circles around him. She had always supposed she could try out for beater and let a few stray bludgers…

“Oh Marianne!”

The familiar shrill sing song voice of Marianne’s younger sister rung through the mostly empty corridor. A playful eye roll and smile crossed her face. As much as her sisters love sick flirting made her want to vomit, she loved her sister dearly. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be in charms?” Marianne scolded.

Dawn glowered at her before crossing her arms, her short blond locks bouncing. “I’ll have you know, Professor Flitwick let us out early so we could get ready for break!” she huffed defiantly.

But her expression quickly brightened. “Are you excited for christmas?” she asked excitedly, as she fell into step with her sister “Dad said I could invite a boy over! And Sunny’s coming to!”

Marianne pulled her robes tighter against the cold. “Well at least you’ll have Sunny with you because I’m staying here this year.” she replied.

“What?!” Dawn gasped “Marianne you can’t skip christmas!”

Marianne had known this conversation was coming. “You think I honestly want to spend my holiday’s sitting next to the Fafner’s and having everyone tell me Roland and I were a good match and should be snogging again?”

Dawn paused and thought for a moment, a small frown forming. “Well...no I suppose not.” she admitted, sighing “Though, it’ll be lonely without my big sister!”

This made Marianne smile slightly. She may be an airhead at times, but Dawn was a sweet girl with good intentions. “Nah!” Marianne exclaimed playfully “You’ll have Fredrick Kinnen or Jasper Tennings or, dare I say, the mysterious Marcus there to keep you company!”

Dawn stuck her tongue out in Marianne’s direction. “I don’t like any of those boys anymore!” She teased “Besides, it’s not the same!”

Marianne chuckled and put an arm around her little sister. “I know, honey dew.” she sighed, a pang of guilt in her heart “But I just don’t think I can deal with it right now.”

Dawn’s face changed at the use of the familiar nickname. She smiled warmly “Well at least I know you’ll have more time to study and bring up that potions grade for your NEWTS!”

Marianne scowled. “Thank’s for reminding me.”

Dawn laughed as the two entered the Great Hall. Marianne wasn’t looking forward to being alone for the holidays, but at this point, she’d do whatever she could to avoid having to deal with the Fafners....


	2. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night trip to the library. Marianne meets a strange character.

Chapter Two: Silent Night

Christmas was approaching fast. Before Marianne knew it, she had watched her sister and Sunny Ornthalas (her muggle born best friend), dash away for the Hogwarts express, ready for a few weeks of holiday cheer. She had been filled with a mixture of guilt and regret. Really, she didn’t want to be away from her family, but, she knew it was for the best that she not bring them down. She couldn’t believe it was only yesterday and she already felt as if Dawn had been away for a month, but, she figured, that's how loneliness worked.

The night was brisk as she made her way down the corridors, heading for the library. She wasn’t sure she had any intention of studying, but at least there was a fire and she didn’t have to look at the common room. It made her sick sometimes remembering how many days she’d sat in those squashy arm chairs, listening to Roland brag endlessly about one thing or another, nodding along and telling him how amazing he was. At least the library would be devoid of any memories since, well, she wasn’t sure Roland even knew the castle had a library.

Armed with a spare blanket, a few candles, and a few good books, she entered the sacred hall of learning. It was quiet and empty as she figured it would be. Most of the other students wouldn’t be in the library even if they had also decided to remain over the holidays. Good. She wasn’t ready to deal with most other people right now. She headed to her favorite spot: the extra comfy arm chair right underneath the big window near the fireplace. She had found solace in that spot many times over the past five years, studying or vexing next to the warm hearth while watching the leaves change or listening to the musical sounds of rain fall. It was comforting.

However, as she approached, she noticed that she actually was not as alone as she thought. Oh no. Someone happened to be seated in the exact place she had intended to be relaxing for the evening. His back was turned to her but she could see the clear green of Slytherin robes. “Oh, bloody hell, you’re kidding me?” she groaned in a burst of emotions, not having meant to.

At her exclamation the boy raised his head and looked around. She realized she recognized him. She’d been paired with him in dueling club once. She didn’t remember his name and, well frankly she wasn’t sure if they ever introduced themselves. She did recall him being particularly good at the full body bind. But that mattered little at the moment. He locked eyes with her. “Maybe you haven’t heard, but libraries are meant to be quiet.” he hissed, his voice ladened with malice and draped in a scottish drawl.

Marianne’s eyes narrowed, she wasn’t one to be challenged. “Can you, I don’t know, pick a different spot maybe?” she spat.

She knew she was being a bit immature and, frankly, rude, but she really needed some form of comfort at the moment and she wasn’t going to let a Slytherin, of all people, take it from her. The boy’s eyes had returned lazily to reading. “I’ve found this spot to be quite comfortable and since you have no actual possession over it and there is ample space to sit elsewhere, I think I’ll stay where I am, thank you.” he responded in a firm and final sounding tone.

Marianne blinked a few times, anger turning her face red. What gave him the right to be so clever? She opened her mouth to object further, but all she could manage was some sort of mixture between a grunt and groan. While she seemed to struggle with herself for a minute, the boy’s eyes rose once again. He studied her for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. This infuriated her further. Seething, she strode to the table one over from him, yanked the chair from underneath, and slammed the books down. Through the entire tantrum, the boy’s gaze followed her. She sat stubbornly facing him, arms crossed, finally getting a good look at him.

He wasn’t a very attractive young man. The first thing she noticed was his beaky nose. It was easily his largest and most eye catching feature. It curved downward, giving him an almost goblin like appearance. His mouth reminded her vaguely of a largemouth bass. It was an exaggeration, certainly, but the corners of his mouth did stretch slightly beyond what could be considered average length. Trail your gaze downward, you’ll see a long chin that seemed to be dotted with small bumps and what appeared to be long thin scar lines, very clear against his sallow skin. He had thick dark eyebrows, one of which was in danger of disappearing into his hairline. His hair was passable, short and neatly swept back, however, it seemed dry and with a color that reminded her of dead leaves. The style also made his larger, slightly knifed ears appear even more prominently.

His only redeeming feature seemed to be his eyes. Despite his not so lovely face, she couldn’t dismiss them. They were a bright arctic blue and, staring into them, Marianne could feel a strange electricity rocket through her nerves. She almost forgot her rage for a moment. But then, the boy spoke again. “It’s humorous, you look like you could be a seventh year but I’m quite certain you can’t be any older than twelve.”

The sudden comment hit Marianne like someone had swung a sack full of bricks into her ego. “Excuse me?” she sputtered, her face reddening once more.

The boy’s sly smile curled, revealing his uneven teeth. “You’re throwing a fit simply because someone else is in a seat you desire.” he pointed out “I can only assume your age matches your attitude.”

The most annoying thing to Marianne was that, well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. She probably could have asked him nicely and he may have had a very different response. But, all the same, she wasn’t about to sit there and let him talk like that to her. “That’s funny because you don’t look like you should still be in school but rather in a grave somewhere. How many times did you have to repeat your O.W.L.S.?”

It was a pretty low blow, she knew. Honestly, she was in too deep and all she could do was throw wild punches. The boy sighed and closed the book he had been trying to read. “If the stupid spot means enough to you to be so insulting, fine, take it.”

He stood abruptly and Marianne felt an instant wave of regret wash over her. “Ah...wait don’t do that.” she groaned.

The boy eyed her suspiciously. “I’m sorry, you want me to sit here and be mistreated when I have clearly done nothing?” he asked, his voice cutting.

“That’s...sorry alright.” She mumbled, casting her gaze to the wall near by.

The boy’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure he really cared to spend his evening being patronized or yelled at by a boisterous Gryffindor out to pick a fight. Considering he usually couldn’t be bothered to deal with people who he actually liked, it seemed taxing to put up with a stranger. He supposed he could do worse. Red face aside, she was rather pretty. Her messy soil hair splayed wildly, sweeping mostly to her left. She had a soft and smooth complexion, unlike his own. Her nose was small and her lips were quite full and painted with a light shade of violet. But the thing he most noticed, besides, arguably, her rosey cheeks, had to be those eyes. Ringed in tints of purple, they were a piercing, sharp honey color and filled with defiance. All at once, he realized he’d seen her before. “Have...have we met?” he questioned, almost sure they had to have.

She met his eyes again. Ah, so he also remembered. “I think we were partnered in dueling class once.” She admitted sheepishly.

“Ah yes.” He seemed to remember “You hit me with incarcerous. I had rope burns for a week!”

“Uh yeah, sorry about that.” she apologized again “I saw the jelly legs curse you cast before and wasn’t taking any chances.”

The boy’s mouth twitched into a grin at the compliment. “Your name was...Lafayette, wasn’t it?”

Now she felt like an ass. He had managed to at least remember her last name and she couldn’t be bothered with his. “Uh yeah. Marianne Lafayette.” she informed him, hoping he wouldn’t realize or care she hadn’t managed to retain his name.

“Fidius Bog.” he introduced, seeming not to care she hadn’t.

He’d started to return to the arm chair once more but stopped and turned. “If you really want the chair, you can have it.”

Marianne’s face had turned red yet again, but not from anger. Shame at the fact that even a Slytherin had more common decency then her. “Uh...thank you.”

She took the offer and traded him seats. She had expected him to leave for a different part of the library, but he took the less comfortable chair and settled back in. Marianne sat in the familiar chair and felt comfort seep slowly into her. “Sorry I bothered you.” She offered to Bog, but he raised a hand.

“You probably had your reasons.” he put simply “Most students don’t stay over the holiday’s unless they have a pretty damn good reason not to be home.”

She couldn’t argue that. All the same, she had acted like a child. “Still no excuse for me being a royal git.”

Fidius had opened his book again and hadn’t looked up, but he was grinning again “Yes, well, I don’t consider most Gryffindor’s the paragon of composer.” he teased, seeming to be relaxed again.

“Well I didn’t expect to find a Slytherin remotely agreeable.” she countered, starting to feel comfortable herself.

His eyes stop scanning the lines of text for a moment. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Marianne watched him continue through the pages. The book he was holding was bound in black leather. Gold leafing curled the front cover to create the title which red “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” She didn’t recognize the title. “Uh...what are you reading?” she asked.

Fidius turned the book around to glance at the title. One of his eyebrows started raising again. “You’ve never heard of William Shakespeare?” he returned, sounding skeptical.

She could feel her cheeks become hot once more. “Is it some kind of muggle fiction?” she shot back “Because I grew up pretty strictly wizard.”

Fidius’ mouth thinned. “He was a classic playwright.” he said matter-of-factly “Romeo and Juliet? Julius Ceaser? Macbeth?”

None of these were ringing a bell. I mean, sure, wizards read muggle works, but she didn’t usually do a lot of reading to begin with. She shook her head. Fidius sighed. “It’s a comedy where, put simply, because of a mischievous fairy named Puck, everyone falls in love with the wrong person and they have to correct it.”

Marianne wrinkled her nose. “What’s so funny about love?” she mumbled.

Fidius heard her and the grin returned. “Foolish, isn’t it?” he agreed “People throwing themselves at someone. Acting like gits to try and impress each other. That’s the real comedy.”

This was a welcome surprise. The one person who also decided not to have happy family time and stuck around seems to be as disgusted with the idea of puppy love as she was. “Your cynicism is refreshing.” she chuckled “Everyone else around here seems to be unable to keep their hands off each other.”

Fidius closed the book sharply with a dramatic scowl. “Love sick fools!” he spat “Walking around in a daze, humming.”

“And dancing.” Marianne added with a note of disgust.

“Giggling like children.”

“Don’t forget the pet names.”

The throaty growl that escaped the boy sounded almost like a hound. “Absolutely ghastly. Never in any conceivable state of mind could I imagine myself wanting to be called something as idiotic as ‘sugar pie’ or ‘honey bunch’.”

Marianne laughed. “You mean, you don’t like the sound of ‘Bogey bear’ or ‘fiddy boo’?”

She saw a shiver shot through his spine. “Don’t.”

Marianne grinned slyly. “Not even ‘my little pumpkin pasty’? Really? I thought that one was a winner with the guys. I must be out of touch with the times.”

Fidius was clearly fighting back both vomit and laughter. “I like it about as much as you’d probably like hearing ‘Buttercup’.” he shot, thinking he’d gain a favorable snicker.

However, that one hit a little close to home. Marianne’s smile instantly fell. That had been Roland’s preferred name for her, forgoing her actual name for it more often then she would have liked. When she didn’t respond, Fidius realized he had said something he ought not to have. “Sorry...I didn’t mean to…”

Marianne waved it off. “Nah, don’t worry about it.” she tried to play cool “I was just stunned by how stupid people are to call each other that.”

She was lying and not convincingly, but Bog was not one to push things. He knew people had their secrets. He decided to play along. “The whole notion is one gigantic mess, if you ask me.”

The two sat in a bit of an awkward silence. Marianne cleared her throat and started to unfold the blanket. It may have been warm in the library but it was never warm enough for Marianne. Bog noticed this and couldn’t help but ask “Bit warm for a blanket, isn’t it?”

Glad that he’d spoken first, she shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I can never really get warm.”

She could see Bog’s curious expression growing. “My dad told me I might have been hit with a stray freezing charm or something when I was little.” She elaborated, not caring to really speak on it much further.

Bog couldn’t help but smile. “I suppose it could be plausible. I’ve heard of spells having lasting effects like that.”

Marianne was settling in. “That’s why I like the spot closest to the fire but so I can still look out the window.”

Bog seemed to appreciate the comment. “I’m quite fond of that spot myself.” he said, finally returning back to his reading. “It’s a good place to think.”

Marianne smiled. Somehow, this conversation had turned out to be more comforting than original plan of brooding by the window. She reached for one of the books in her bag and produced a small green bound one that looked very worn. It was a small book of poetry from a wizard name Glenda Gildenharth. Each line was about the strength and empowerment. Her mother had read her these when she was young and, when she died, Marianne would often read them when she needed a lift.

Before she cracked it open, she took a last look at Bog. “You sure you don’t mind me being here?” she asked, a small bit of timidity in her voice.

He glanced momentarily from his engrossed reading. “As long as you aren’t one of those people that feels the need to react loudly.” He sighed, reaching into his bag.

He pulled a box of cauldron cakes and placed them on the table. He flipped it open with one hand and removed one still not pausing in his novel. “Would you like one?”

Marianne perked up. “Yeah, thanks!” she responded.

She reached for one and plucked it out of the box. Now she was truly ready for some reading. She settled back into the chair, her legs tucked beneath her, placed the pastry in her mouth, and let the book fall open on her lap.


	3. Blue Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marianne and Fidius flex their wand arms and emotions run high when the school nurse seems to be a familiar face to Bog.

“Lafayette. Hey, Lafayette!”

Marianne made a groaning noise and shifted. “Five more minutes Dawn…” she grumbled, snuggling her face deeper into the crook of her arm.

The library was quiet. The only sound was the soft crackling of the waning flames in the fireplace. That and a painful, nagging voice. “Get up, you mangy git.”

Marianne begrudgingly raised her head. She cracked her eyes open just enough to glower in the direction of her insulter. Through her narrowed eyes, the outline of a very disgruntled and somewhat pissed Fidius. His hands were on his hips and he was scowling. “Wha’s your problem, mate?” she yawned, stiffness aching in her neck.

Bog shook his head. “Honestly.” he sighed, reaching up to scratch his neck.

Since their first accidental meeting a week prior, Marianne and Fidius has found themselves together more often than they expected. They had discovered, aside from the teachers, a painfully gossipy Hufflepuff, and a very irritating Gryffindor boy with his Ravenclaw girlfriend, they were the only ones who’d remained for the holidays. Considering the others to be appalling company, Marianne had continued to try and seek solace in the library. Apparently, Bog was of a like mind in that respect. The two had settled into a routine of meeting there simply to sit and read. Every so often, one of them would make a comment about something. That the fire could use a few more logs, how good a nice pheasant stew sounded about now, that the snow seemed to be letting up. But they mostly just took turns sitting in the comfy chair and read their books in silence.

Last night, Bog had brought up the idea of trading books, for some fresh reading. Marianne was a little apprehensive since it was her mother’s, but Bog didn’t seem to be the kind of person to mistreat a novel and she was curious about his. The two swapped and Bog had said he would start it the next day. Marianne stayed in the library after he had left and started immediately but she never got past the first page. She had spent an hour trying to understand the language the writer had tried to use and eventually she tired herself out. At least, she must have since she was being very rudely awoken by someone who couldn’t have otherwise.

Marianne extended her arms, stretching her sore muscles. “That’s the last time I sleep in the library.” she groaned, feeling the small cracks as her bones moved for the first time in hours.

“You should have just gone back to your common room.” Bog tossed casually.

Marianne stuck her tongue out playfully. “No way! And miss out on the absolutely wonderful awakening you just gave me? Fat chance!”

She watched those blue roll, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “You’re lucky I realized I left your book here.” he commented, holding it up.

“Gee, my hero.” she mocked, scruffing her hair and letting out another yawn.

Another sigh escaped the Slytherin youth. “Well, get up then. Breakfast is being served. Unless you’d rather miss it.”

At the idea of a warm meal, Marianne perked up almost instantly. “Like I’d miss breakfast!” she said as she gathered up her things and began stuffing them into her bag hurriedly.

Bog waited as she finished and latched the strap. “Come on then.” he pretended to whine, but he seemed happy for the company.

Once Marianne had slung her pack over her shoulder, the two began towards the great hall. The gryffindor realized she had never stood next to the boy before. He was a good head or so taller than she. She supposed he’d be even taller if he didn’t seem to have a slight hunch. He was also very lanky. His shoulders were broad and his chest was prominent, but his arms and legs were very thin. He walked almost as if he should be carrying a staff or something, but his hands were instead thrust into his pockets. It gave him a bit of a menacing look.

She also hadn’t seen him in daylight. Away from the harsh flickering flame lights, his skin seemed much healthier. The bumps and scars were much less noticeable. She found him to be just a tad less unattractive than she had originally thought. “Is there something on my face?”

Marianne hadn’t realized she was staring. Shaking her head swiftly, she removed her gaze. “Just that large nose of yours is all.”

To her surprise, Bog grinned. “Ah, back to the insults are we?” he chuckled.

Marianne shrugged. “You asked what was on your face, I answered honestly.” she was fighting a playful smile, “and that’s the biggest part on it.”

Bog’s smile didn’t fade, but he changed subjects. “So, I take it you started reading the book?”

Marianne scowled playfully. “Don’t change the subject! I wasn’t finished talking about your nose! There’s just so much to say...probably because there’s so much there!”

“Watch it.” He shot her a warning glance, his smile fading somewhat.

She knew better than to keep pushing it. Bog was her only ally against the noisy Hufflepuff and the nauseating love birds. If she lost his company, it was gonna be a long two weeks. “Well, I made a pretty valiant effort.” she admitted, sounding pretty defeated “I don’t know how you can get what’s going on! The writing is so…”

“Intelligent?” Bog offered, a note of condescension revealing itself in his voice.

Marianne glowered at him. “I was going to say pompous. What the bloody hell is a nosegay?”

Bog couldn’t hold back a bought of mirth. “You’re serious?” he laughed, unaware that it was actually a common query.

The red started to raise in Marianne’s cheeks. “Of course I’m serious!” she blurted in indignation “Most people don’t walk around saying ‘thou hast’ and sounding like lunatics! It’s a fair question!”

The laughter had stopped, but the gangly man was still smirking. “Though she be but little, she be fierce!” he remarked, quoting the very book she was complaining about.

Of course, she didn’t know that. “Who are you calling little? You’re taller than the bloody astronomy tower, of course I seem small!”

This made Bog laugh once again. He had to stop walking for a moment. He wasn’t sure what made him find it so amusing. Maybe it was the way she got worked up. Her cheeks become a soft rose, her thin brows knitted together and her lush lips pursed. Maybe it was the way her golden eyes flashed with fire. His laughter slowed and he realized he had been locked stares with her. He straightened slightly and cleared his throat. His next footsteps were much longer than last and Marianne almost had to skip to catch up. “Well are you gonna answer my question?” she challenged, falling into step once more.

“What question?” Bog returned, still composing himself somewhat.

Marianne groaned. “Nosegays. What are they?”

Remembering, Fidius smiled slightly. “The word refers to a small bouquet of sweet smelling flowers.” he replied, hands finding their way into his pockets once more.

The scowl had returned to Marianne’s face. “Then why didn’t he just say flowers? Did people honestly talk like this?”

“You know,” Bog found himself offering before he realized what he was saying “I can always read it to you and translate it a bit. Or you can at least read it while I’m there so you can ask me what stuff means.”

Marianne was a little stunned by the generous offer. She could see his eyes widen slightly after he suggested it. His hands seemed to tense up in his pockets. He really must not have been very good with people. “Hmm, that might not be too bad.” she noted, “Alright, you can be my translator then!”

Thankfully for Fidius, they rounded a corner and she hadn’t been looking to see his face turn a slight shade of pink. The double doors to the great hall were just ahead. But something near by caused both to slow their pace. “Merlin’s beard.” Bog groaned.

Just in front of the double doors, the annoying couple stood. They had decided it was the absolute best place to try and suck each others faces off. Marianne let out a very audible retching noise. The couple stopped trying to eat each other long enough to glare at them. This angered the hot headed gryffindor. “Oi! Whatcha glarin at us for?” she barked “You’re the one’s snoggin in public!”

The girl seemed to look a bit ashamed, but the boy’s stare seemed to get colder. “Don’t listen to the mean girl, buttercup. She’s just mad that her boyfriend is a gnarled old wanker.”

Bog made a small ‘tch.’ “Better a gnarled old wanker then a cheeky little plonker, aye?” he shot back “Now take your trollop and bugger off, would you?”

The girl gasped at the insult. The boy pulled her into him, looking at the pair with contempt. “How dare you?” he hissed, his eyes narrowing in Fidius’ direction “Isabella is not a trollop!”

A wand was drawn from the boys robe sleeve. Marianne immediately reached for hers but Bog had already stepped forward. “I wouldn’t do that.” He challenged, his wand already held high “Unless, that is, you wanna spend your christmas in the hospital wing.”

The boy drew back slightly. Marianne was somewhat impressed. It was as if the wand’s presence had changed the Slytherin man. He was suddenly standing a good half a head taller, his shoulders no longer hunched. He looked a much prouder and confident man then he had just moments ago. She couldn’t stifle a small grin. “What on earth is going on here?!”

Four pairs of eyes shot to the double doors. There, shrouded in a periwinkle robe, stood Madam Arethusa. She was the healer Hogwarts had hired when the former, Madame Pomfrey, had decided to retire. A young twenty years of age, she was one of the most accomplished potion makers Hogwarts had produced in at least a decade. She stood only a bit taller than Marianne, but with a much more feminine grace as her hands fluttered to a rest on either side of the doorway and her hip cocked. Her long blonde tresses bounced lightly, spilling from beneath her tall, wide brim hat. It was slightly crooked and intricate, royal blue design snaked around it. She was looking between the students with pursed lips and a raised brow.

“Well?” she piped in a rather cheery voice for someone who was supposed to be upset “Anyone want to defend themselves or should I just fetch someone who can deduct points?”

The madam’s eyes suddenly shot to Fidius. Her arms flew to her hips. “I should have known.”

Marianne looked at Bog in time to see him grimace. The Madam let out a long sigh. “Drop your wands, all of you.” she snapped sharply “You can impress your girlfriend’s in some other way. I won’t have any dueling!”

Bog glowered at her. “I’m not trying to impress anyone, Madame.” he hissed, his arm not dropping “We asked them to cease their disgusting displays of public affection and he drew his wand. I was simply defending myself.”

Madame Arethusa rolled her eyes. “Oh I’m so sure you’re completely innocent, Fidius.” sarcasm dripping from her lips “That’s why you’re nineteen and still in school right?”

Marianne watched his expression twist from minor frustration to outright rage. “Are you daft?” he seethed, finally letting his wand drop “You realize you can’t talk to me like that anymore, not now that you’re employed here.”

“Tsk, Tsk, Bog.” She mocked “You always did have quite the temper.”

His face had turned red. Marianne couldn’t tell if it was from rage or embarrassment. She felt a defensive urge raising in her. Before she knew it, she was speaking. “Look, we’ll leave them alone as long as you tell them to knock of the face eating, alright?” she blurted.

Madame Arethusa studied Marianne for a moment. “Well, I don’t see what they’ve done wrong. You could simply, ignore them. You remember what ignoring people is, don’t you Bog?”

“Don’t.”

Bog had begun to tremble slightly. Marianne was a bit repulsed by the nurses behavior but she was more worried about the strange look that had found it’s way to Fidius’ face. It looked as if he might lunge on Arethusa, or possibly burst into tears. Instinctively, Marianne grabbed his arm. He seemed to freeze. “Come on, Bog.” she muttered to him “Lets go for a walk and get away from these tossers. I think I lost my appetite anyway.”

Reluctantly, the Slytherin boy nodded and allowed Marianne to pull him away.


	4. Baby, it's Cold Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chilly walk awakens feelings Marianne wasn't sure existed...

Once the two had retreated a bit past the front doors of the castle and made it to the banks of the frozen lake, Marianne let go of Bog’s arm. The moment her grip released, he shot past her. She watched as he progressed, hands forced back into his pockets, to the nearest tree. He simply stood in front of it for a moment, staring blankly. But then, all at once, his wand was out and he yelled “Reducto!” pointing it at the poor things trunk.

A loud crack echoed through the open field as a large chunk of bark and wood flew aside. His breathing was heavy and she could see him tremble. It took a moment for Marianne to summon the courage to speak up. “Are...are you alright?”

At the sound of the question, Bog swung his foot violently at the tree. “No, I am not actually.” he hissed.

But after a moment, he sighed. His wand arm dropped to his side and his body seemed to slump. Marianne couldn’t help but look a little pained by whatever was bothering him. She searched for anyway she could comfort him. “Look, uh.” she started, scratching her arm in a somewhat nervous manner “You don’t have to talk about it or anything, well, unless you want to. You really don’t have to, I mean…”

She was getting flustered. She didn’t want to force him to do anything, she just wanted him to cheer up. Fidius had turned around and was looking curiously at her. “Just uh,” she was stumbling over herself “Just...oh bugger. Whichever one is the one that makes you stop looking like a sad lump, alright?”

She could feel her cheeks growing hot yet again. Usually, Marianne was pretty straight forward. She didn’t care if she offended anyone because she was being honest, and, well, honesty was the best policy, right? If someone asked her opinion, she’d say it. She spent so much time worrying and trying to make Roland like her, the moment he had broke her heart, she stopped all together. Yet, here she was, standing in the snow out with this sullen boy, doing her best not to upset him even further.

Bog didn’t smile, but his expression softened a bit. He reached up with his empty hand to scratch his head. “You really don’t want to know why I’m nineteen and still in my sixth year?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly.

“Well, sure I’m curious.” she admitted plainly “But if you don’t want to talk about it, it's none of my business. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

There went his eyebrow, attempting to find its way into his hairline. Marianne was starting to feel uncomfortable. His eyes had a way of seeing straight through you. She could feel a slight tremble raise in her body. She was doing her best not to break eye contact. Fidius looked suddenly concerned. In one swift motion, he slipped his robe off.

The girl looked fearful and took an awkward step back. “Hey, woah there mate!” she sputtered in her confusion.

But Bog had strode forward. All at once, he reached around her, whirling the robe. It came to a rest on her shoulders, his hands pulling it forward to cover her. Instantly, Marianne felt warmth crawl into her body. The trembling began to weaken. In the rush of the moment, she had forgotten it was winter and that it would be below freezing outside. Instinctively, she reached up and pulled the robe around her.

She looked up with the intention of thanking him, but, as her eyes trailed upward, she felt her words catch. When had he gotten so close? She was eye level with his collar bones, seeing every breath he took in the rise and fall of his chest. His neck, where his adam's apple quivered with every sharp swallow. His lips, thin and pale, but soft and inviting as they parted slightly to draw air. Then, there they were. The cold air was not what made a shiver shoot through Marianne this time, but instead, the chilling azure of Fiduis Bog’s gentle gaze. She felt something thud hard against her rib cage.

Her mouth started to grow slack. Quickly, she ground her teeth, forcing a small amount of composure. “Why on earth did you lead us out here?” Bog finally asked, concern still etched in the small lines around his eyes even as his voice scolded “Don’t you have some kind of thing with the cold?”

She flushed slightly. “I, well…” she floundered “I was trying to put as much distance between us and that cock up of a group.”

She jabbed a thumb quickly over her shoulder. “I guess I figured they weren’t gonna follow us out here or something.” she continued, sheepishly.

Boy, she sounded like a right duffer. She cocked a slight smile, trying to mask her shame. “Worked though, aye?”

Fidius continued to stare for a moment. Why was this girl putting in so much effort? She was standing here, practically freezing to death, trying to cheer up someone she hardly knew. He couldn’t help but feel a little flattered by the gesture, even if she was just being kind. “I suppose it did.” he breathed, letting go of her shoulders.

He ran his fingers through his hair, before letting out a long sigh. “Well, if we aren’t going back to the great hall, we might as well whole up in the library.”

Marianne frowned slightly. “What about breakfast?” she whined slightly.

She really was hungry. So much so, the moment the words left her lips, her stomach growled loud enough for Bog to hear. A moment passed. A low snort escaped from the Slytherin and, within seconds, a large, toothy grin plastered itself across his face. Marianne pouted slightly at the boy’s sardonic expression, but she couldn’t hold it for long. She felt herself smiling. Somehow, even if it wasn’t a very attractive one, his grin was infectious to her. Maybe it was the way it seemed to light up the space around them. “Not to worry!” he assured “I have provisions to last us till lunch.”

He patted his school bag, his grin widening. “Well, what are we waiting for then? It’s bloody freezing!” she shivered, and grabbed him by the sleeve “Come on then!”

Bog felt the tug pull him forward as the smaller girl yanked him toward the steps to the castle. He really wasn’t sure why he felt so content. Maybe it was the fact that someone, other than his mother, had not only tolerated but willingly spent time in the same room as him for more than five minutes. Maybe it was the relief that someone did so without needing to hear every single detail of his life. Maybe it was the fact that this same person also happened to have incredibly pretty eyes.

Whatever it was, Fidius was pleased to have this stalky Gryffindor dragging him about the castle. And he had no intention of changing the arrangement anytime soon.


	5. Last Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from home sends Marianne into a spin...

The days till christmas had begun to dwindle away. Marianne had stopped counting down. She wasn’t sure she even cared at this point. She and Fidius had stopped waiting until the evenings to meet. She had seen him at breakfast the day after their winter stroll and got up the nerve to sit with him at the Slytherin table. Not like house tables mattered with so few students there, but Bog had still been shocked by the action. However, he seemed cheery enough with the situation after, of course, making as many jokes and jabs as he could fit in before Marianne told him to shut it.

They started to spend most of their time together after that. Eating meals in mild disgust while gaging over the handsy couple, barricading themselves into the library so Fidius could laugh at Marianne’s slow and frustrating progression through A Midsummer Night’s Dream, one or two “daring” explorations of the castle that Marianne insisted they go on, claiming Bog would shrivel away into dust if he sat on his bum reading all the time. The two seemed to have become inseparable, seemingly forgetful that this break was swiftly approaching its expiration.

Marianne had leapt from bed the moment she opened her eyes. She didn’t realize it was the day before christmas eve. To her, this was going to be another lovely day of criticizing the love sick fools over breakfast, adventures through the corridors, and listening to that Scottish cackle the filled her with both resentment and warmth.

She was dressed and clean so quickly, the sun had only just risen above the treetops. She knew Fidius would be there already, he always was. She was fairly certain he was awake before even the birds started singing. Although Marianne was normally not a morning person and certainly not one to be properly functioning before eight o’clock, she found meeting her friend was all the reason she needed to be bright eyed and bushy tailed.

The Great Hall was fairly empty. Of course, the garish christmas trees and tinsel strewn the place, her only reminder of the impending “cheer.” She hardly paid the tiny floating lights and glittering baubles any mind. Her gaze had snapped immediately to the far side of the hall where the Slytherin table was located. A small smile formed on her unknowingly red face.

He was there, as usual. Bog was leaning forward on his elbows, one hand holding a spoon filled with egg, the other clutching the book of poetry she’d lent him when they had traded so many days earlier. He was much more focused on the text then the food. She was fairly sure it had been sitting on the end of that spoon for at least a good five minutes. She chuckled, watching his eyes slide across the lines on the page, his eyebrows furrowed in his concentration.

Marianne made her way over to the long benches. Without saying anything, she seated herself next to him and began filling her plate with various foods. Bog didn’t seem to notice her arrival. He usually didn’t. Marianne found it quite amusing. After she’d finished loading up on plenty of bacon, sausage, and cut potatoes, she cleared her throat loudly. Bog lurched forward in surprise, the forgotten eggs flying off his spoon to land on the table. His neck snapped his stare to meet her mischievous grin. He groaned loudly, his muscles slowly relaxing. “Must you do that every morning, Lafayette?” he moaned in anguish, dropping his spoon and raising his hand to his brow.

“As long as you keep falling for it!” she laughed.

And he did. Every single time. After briefly rubbing his forehead, Fidius dropped his hand to reclaim his spoon and a new portion of egg. “I suppose I really should get you a cowbell then.” he quipped, his eyes returning to the book in his hand.

“Oh lighten up, Bog!” she chirped “I can’t help that you’re an easy target!”

He rolled his eyes as she shoveled a large helping of the messy mixture on her plate into her mouth. This was much how the past few mornings had gone. Although Bog seemed angered by it, he actually wouldn’t have it any other way. He intentionally woke up early just so he could make it to the hall before she did so they could continue this routine every day. It had been a long time since the older boy had felt so relaxed with someone that he was unintentionally going out of his way to keep things this way. He really never went to great lengths to do much of anything, accept avoid human contact on most days, so the fact that he was actually trying was a bit befuddling to him. But so far, things had been favorable, so he wasn’t complaining.

After a few minutes of listening to Marianne stuff her face, Bog spoke up. “You know, the bacon doesn’t have legs and isn’t going to get up and walk away if you would happen to slow down.”

Marianne hadn’t realized she was being a bit of a pig. She slowly swallowed what was in her mouth. “Er, sorry.” she apologized, feeling a bit ashamed.

Bog’s eyes flicked to her, his head turning. “What? No smarmy comeback about how you’re more worried about the sausage running off?” he asked in bewilderment.

She straightened up slightly. “I’m not fully awake yet.” she lied, pretending to seem indignant “The apologize was a fluke, it won’t happen again.”

Bog chuckled and went back to the book, actually taking a bite of his eggs. Marianne hadn’t wanted to admit she was becoming more and more self conscious of her actions around him. His playful insults didn’t offend her, per say, but she started to worry that he found some of her behaviors repulsive. For some reason, that was the exact opposite of how she wanted him to think of her.

She didn’t have long to dwell. The soft screech of an owl echoed in the vast hall. Both Marianne and Bog looked up. Marianne recognized her own tawny descending toward the table, an envelope clutched in it’s beak. “Oh, no.” she groaned, realizing the letter was bound to be from her father.

Bog also made a disapproving noise as a grey screech owl landed in front of his place, a grubby looking package tied to it’s talon. “Wotcher!” he complained as the owl stepped uncaringly on to his plate.

Marianne greeted her pet, whom she had named Athena, kindly and with a small piece of toast. The owl nibbled it gratefully as Marianne reluctantly opened the letter. She had been right, it was from her father. It was an elegantly written note on crisp parchment that had a picture attached. She ignored the photograph for a moment in favor of the words.

Dearest Marianne,

We were so disappointed to hear you wouldn’t be with us for the holidays. Dawn said you felt you would only burden our spirits. While I couldn’t disagree more I will respect your decision as I’m sure you are spending your time wisely in study.

I wanted to at least wish you a happy christmas from Dawn, Sunny, and myself. Know you are greatly missed. The Fafner’s also send their regards and well wishes. Roland seems especially displeased you were not present this year. I’m not sure what happened between you two, but you really should give the boy another chance. He really is a good man, you know.

Best wishes, my dearest rosebud,

Oberon Lafayette

Marianne could hardly look at the picture. She knew she was going to see that smug bastard’s face, batting his eyelashes and fussing with his bangs. She felt her shoulders begin to tremble as the anger of her father's audacity and the bitterness of knowing she couldn’t be there with her family because of him. Knowing she still couldn’t look him in the eye without feeling every ounce of pain she’d endured the day she’d seen him committing his infidelities.

She didn’t realize she had crushed the paper in her fist until she felt a hand grasp it. She looked over to see that Bog had finished going through his own mail and seen her discomfort. Distress lined his face and his eyes seemed filled with worry. “Marianne, what is it?”

His voice was low and gentle. Never had he spoke softly to her, his heartfelt question so timid and earnest. This should have easily melted Marianne’s anxiety, but the memories of her plight had an extra sting, considering she hadn’t realized until she had read his name that it was, in fact, the anniversary of her heartbreak. She stood up abruptly, making Bog release her hand in surprise. “I’m sorry but I should go.” She blurted out “Today’s not really a good day for me.”

She didn’t even give him a second glance before turning and rushing out of the great hall. “Marianne! Wait!” Fidius called after her, but to no avail.

She had already gone. What on earth could have set her off like that? He leaned back slightly, perplexed. As he did, he noticed she had dropped the letter. Now, Bog wasn’t normally the kind of person to invade people’s privacy. He himself was a very private person and valued his secrets. But he was, for once, genuinely worried for his new friend. Against his better judgment, he scooped up the crumpled note. Smoothing it on the table, he scanned it quickly.

As he reached the line imploring Marianne to give this Roland fellow a second chance, he felt his heart drop. Had Marianne been hurt by this boy? Was he the reason she had stayed in the castle for the holidays instead of spending it with her family? The reason she’d been stuck here with him, playing buddies day in and day out, masking her suffering? He felt a rage brewing inside him the likes of which he had never felt before. If he found out this boy had been the cause of that heartbroken look he’d just seen on her face, he’d personally escort the him to the hospital wing, or, well, what was left of him after a Bumbarda curse or two.

But he’d save that rage for later. Right now, he had to find Marianne. He knew the pain she was feeling all too well. He knew she needed someone, today more then any other, to distract her mind. He knew he had to do something to try and make her smile again. That’s what he had grown to like best about his sweet and feisty friend. The beautiful way she could warm his heart with just the smallest of smiles. Though she fronted an uncaring and spunky nature, her smiles gave away her sweet nature. They made even the darkest places in Bog’s mind fill with happiness.

And he’d destroy anyone who took those smiles away from her.


	6. The First Noel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fidius seeks out to console Marianne

Marianne should have realized that the comfy chair under the window, near the fireplace, in the library was exactly the number one worst place for her to try and hide from the only person who would come looking for her there first. But she didn’t care. She had felt the tears forcing their way out the moment she stood up in the great hall and she needed to be anywhere that made her feel safe. This is where her sprinting feet had carried her. She collapsed into the chair, curling into a ball. As she wrapped her arms around her legs, she buried her head in her knees. Within seconds, her body was wracked with sobs.

She couldn’t let Bog see her like this. See her so weak. Crying because she had been stupid enough to fall in love. Even worse so with a boy like Roland. She couldn’t let the one real friend she’d made in this castle since she had been destroyed by that mangy git see her so broken. It was better this way. She let the pain surge through her body, weeping loudly. It was the first time she’d cried since that day.

It wasn’t fair. He was the one who had ruined everything and yet, she was stuck here, alone, far away from everyone in the world who cared about her all because she couldn’t stand to look at him. She didn’t get to watch her sister open the present she’d spent months picking out. She wouldn’t get to hear Sunny’s yearly christmas song. She wouldn’t get to eat yule log cake and hear stories her father loved to tell about how much her mother had loved christmas…

“It’s not fair.” she whimpered, the tears showing no sign of stopping “It’s not fair you get to hurt me and I still have to suffer…”

Unexpectedly, she felt something grasp around her. Before Marianne had a chance to react, she was being swept into an embrace. The arms that had wrapped themselves around her were long and slender but held her with such strength. She could hear a soft heartbeat behind the muscles of the chest her ear was pressed against. She gasped slightly in surprise as a hand laced itself into her hair and caressed her softly. She was still racked with sobs as she felt the warmth of Bog’s earnest hug. “Bog…I…” she tried to get out through strangled breathing.

“Shh.” Bog cooed gently, his fingers stroking her hair gently “You don’t have to defend yourself, you dolt.”

She was trying to even her breathing, but was failing miserably. Bog was not letting her go. “Someone’s hurt you. Badly if I had to venture a guess.” he murmured “You deserve a good cry. And I’d be daft if I made you do it alone.”

Had Marianne’s speech not already been strangled, she wasn’t sure if she could have found the words anyway. Only Dawn and her father had ever seen her cry like this. They were the only ones allowed to see her this vulnerable. The only ones allowed to hold her like this. And yet, she slipped her arms around him, clutching him desperately, burying her face in his chest. The tears flooded and she wailed loudly.

Fidius only held her more tightly. The loud, mournful cries cut him like a blade. He knew the misery, the agony. He too had fallen ill with the madness of desire and love. He too had once had his heart trampled. And it broke him inside to think someone like Marianne, so filled with fire and life, could be laying in his arms, her heart tormented by the same affliction. He drew her closer, resting his head on her and continuing to fondle her short brown locks.

Marianne was starting to feel the pain ebb away. So long it had been since she had felt safe cradled in someone’s arms. but even that made her feel somewhat stupid. She had known this man for two weeks, just two. She knew nothing about him besides that his taste in books was irritating, he had the most annoying way of making her both angry and light as air, he was as much of a cynic for love as she was, he seemed to live-almost exclusively-on pumpkin pasties, and he had the most incredibly beautiful eyes she had ever seen. She didn’t even know why he was nineteen and still at Hogwarts. Yet, she felt she could tell this pompous, unattractive, condescending…sweet, kind, wonderful boy everything in the world.

Her sobs had weakened and she was finally beginning to catch her breath. As her inhalations evened out, her grip loosened on Bog’s waist. Fidius’ let her sit up properly, but his arms did not leave her. Marianne was taking deep breaths and trying to stifle her tears, her hands resting on his heaving chest. “I…I’m sorry, Fidius.” she apologized, shame keeping her from looking at him “I didn’t…mean for you to see me like this.”

“Don’t.”

His hand had slipped to her cheek as he guided her face to look to him. Her eyes reluctantly followed and were caught by his. “Don’t you ever apologize to me for feeling shite because of some cheeky blighter, alright?” he demanded, his face serious as his long thumb gently wiped a tear from her cheek “I am the last person who is going to judge you for crying from a broken heart.”

She guessed he had seen the letter. She must have dropped it. She couldn’t blame him really. She probably would have done the same thing if she’d seen him storm off like that. A small hiccup escaped her throat as she tried to speak. “I…hic…I never let anyone see me like this.” she stated as flatly as she could.

Bog heard a soft pang behind his ribcage. He felt a small sense of pride in the fact that, even if she hadn’t meant to, she had let him see this side of her. Yes, it was painful and terrible, but she placed some small amount of trust in him. “Actually, I’ve…never even told anyone what happened…” she admitted, her tears finally ceasing.

“You don’t have to tell me what he did.” Bog said quickly “I’m not here to force you to. I’ve already stuck my big nose further than I should have.”

She shook her head. “I think I want to talk about it.” she admitted.

She didn’t really. But somehow, she got the feeling saying it out loud, getting it off her chest, it would make her feel just the tiniest bit better. And, she supposed, Bog didn’t look like he was ready to go anywhere any time soon.

He slowly removed his clutch from her waist and cheek. He instead, took her hands and helped her to her feet. She realized he was trying to get her to sit back in the arm chair. Once she was seated, he pulled a chair round from nearby with one hand, his other never leaving hers. She wasn’t sure he realized that blush had replaced the red that the crying had caused in her face or if he was even aware he was holding her hand at all. He seemed to be a bit daft sometimes, especially when it involved how he acted towards people. It was rather endearing, watching him become flustered when he realized the social cock ups. Besides, she wasn’t about to make him let go.

She had been curious about what his hands would feel like. They weren’t soft, but they were not overly rough. It almost felt like a snake’s skin, fresh after shedding. Just sort of smooth. His fingers were strangely boney and curled awkwardly around her smaller ones, the joints seeming more pronounced than they ought to be. One digit in particular looked as if it may have been broken at some point. But the tenderness in which he grasped her hand wiped away any negative thought she could have had about them. As far as she could tell, these were the most lovely hands in all of Britain, probably even the world.

Fidius made himself comfortable before speaking again. “If you feel you want to talk about it, I’ll listen. If not, I’m going to sit here all day. One way or another, I’m not moving until you’re grinning like nutter.”

Marianne’s face cracked slightly. “Just shut up for a second, aye?” she begged “I’m gonna tell you.”

Bog didn’t interrupt her again. Marianne closed her eyes for but a second, looking for the strength she needed to say out loud the things she had tried to stifle in herself. She almost faltered. She had spent so much time trying to forget all the thoughts that had brought her down for so long, even considering making them real again was…agonizing. But there it was. She could feel the bravery she needed all this time. And it was radiating from the hand that was grasped tightly around hers. She drew in a deep breath.

“I guess I should start from the beginning?”

And she did. Once she started speaking, she found it wasn’t hard at all to tell Bog about what had happened to her. The words just came one after the other. She explained how she’d lived next to the Fafner’s ever since they had moved into Godric’s Hallow, how her and Rolands dads had been friends, how the family had been good to them when she lost her mother. She told him about how she had crushed on Roland because of his devastatingly good looks and he had agreed to be with her. But she had never felt like he cared for her or respected her.

All the time, Bog was listening intently. He didn’t seem to react at all until Marianne mentioned that Roland had discouraged her from joining the house quidditch team. His reaction could only be akin to a very territorial wolf baring its teeth. She thought she may have even heard a low growl from the depths of his chest. But he did not speak, urging her to continue with her tale.

“Well, I guess the big important part of this absolutely thrilling tale,” Marianne began to wrap up, her sarcastic nature apparent even in times of great duress “Is that, well, last year, they had the semi-annual yule ball. I mean, should have been obvious him and I would go, right? I wanted to be a bit romantic and ask him anyway. I mean, I suppose I could have let him ask me or something but…”

“You aren’t that kind of girl.” Bog offered, talking for the first time.

“Right, yeah.” she agreed, feeling the heat in her face again “Not really traditional. Or patient really. So, I made him a gift. It was silly, just a little boutonniere. Matched my dress. I went to go find him and give it to him and…”

She stopped. She didn’t really want to say this bit. It was the bit that made it all real. But the warmth on her hand seemed to grow. Bog had leaned forward and completely encompassed her hand with his own. She could feel an ever so subtle movement as his thumb traced the smallest circle against the back of her hand. She felt as if she would burst from the intensity of the fire in her face. She was quite sure there was steam spilling from her ears and she was also quite sure he could hear the wild slamming of her heart against her chest.

And all at once, saying it was the easiest thing in the world. “I caught him with his tongue down the throat of Ravenclaw behind the statue of the one-eyed witch. Needless to say, that ended that. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

The words had left her body, but that was not the only thing that had gone. All the pain she had felt, the haunting memories, the image of that smug face. It was as if they had evaporated. Something else entirely seemed to have not just taken it’s place, but settled itself very comfortably and spread out through her. She knew this feeling. She searched hurriedly for them, yes, there. Marianne Lafayette looked deep into the oceanic eyes of Fidius Bog and she felt her heart soar.

Bog, however, was painfully unaware that the eyes boring into his belonged to a girl who was just realizing she was absolutely smitten with him. The rage he had felt burning inside him since he had read the letter was on the verge of breaking. How could that disgusting prat do such a horrible thing to Marianne? Her of all people! His hands had begun to tremble slightly.

Marianne’s dazed look dropped as she felt him release his grip. She saw his face twisting as it tried to hold back what he wanted to say. “You can talk now if you want.” Marianne sighed “I’m done.”

Talk? No, no. Bog was not sure his voice was capable of dropping volume below a shout. And shout he did. His fist slammed hard on to the table behind him. “Loathsome, repugnant, vile, putrid, revolting fucking bastard!” he yelled, unable to keep his words calm or collected “If I’d have caught him, I’d have skinned him alive! Or at least hit him with a good conjunctivitis curse because if he could look at you and still have the nerve to do such a thing, then he doesn’t deserve his eyes!”

He hadn’t realized the betraying words he’d spoken. Well, not immediately. The rage was pushed away by the slow realization of what he had said. Had…had he said that out loud? His eyes began to widen, understanding that, yes, he had indeed just said that using his mouth and that it was, in fact, directly to the last person he wanted to hear it. Not that complimenting her was a bad thing because, in just three seconds, he could come up with about one hundred and fifty ways to do so, but because the last thing he wanted to do was strain his new friendship by blurting out something so awkward.

Reluctantly, he turned to face her, expecting some sort of mild disgust. But he was greeted with the brightest smile he had ever seen. “You think I’m pretty?” she asked, a hint of timidity playing on her voice mixed with a slight tease.

The furious red Bog’s cheeks had been was nothing compared to the deep scarlet the sweet sound of her voice had painted across his face. “I uh…” he stuttered “Well, that is…”

Marianne watched, getting a sick joy out of seeing him struggle. The way he was determined not to look her in the eye, the scarlet color his ears had turned from his outburst, the hard swallow. “I mean, you certainly aren’t ugly!” he settled on, frustrated and oh so cute (Marianne’s words anyway) “You…uh.”

She couldn’t help herself. The sight of this awkward boy trying his hardest to pretend he hadn’t just called her beautiful was too much. She burst forth with laughter. “Aren’t you just a charmer?” she teased, her shoulders shaking with her amusement.

But she was happy. Bog had been enraged at the idea that someone could treat her poorly. And he had all but said he found her attractive. On top of it all, he had chased after her when she was upset, held her and let her cry, and listened for twenty minutes as she elaborately explained her tale. Marianne had never felt so cared for by anyone outside her family. She looked at him once more to see he had finally smiled again. “I never said I was anything of the sort.” he said.

Both of their faces began to relax, tension dispersing. Marianne, feeling almost like she’d done a 180 degree flip in the span of thirty minutes, gently cleared her throat. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to regret leaving a perfectly good meal back in the great hall.” she stated.

Bog’s grin had no chance of fading “Oh yeah? Not done shoveling your mess down your throat like a rabid werewolf yet?” he mocked playfully.

She made a face before punching him lightly on the arm. “At least I eat. You sure you aren’t some kind of vampire. You know eating ONLY pastries is awful for you right?”

The two had started to leave the familiar library, intending to return to the great hall. She glanced in his direction to find he had pulled one of the treats from his bag and had been about to take a bite. She snorted so loudly she had to cover her mouth and his cheeks turned red all over again. “Well, no one asked you anyway!” he spat, taking a defiant tear of the soft breading.

“Fine.” she shrugged, still giggling softly “But don’t blame me when you get fat.”

His eyebrow raised as usual as he chewed softly. “I could probably eat ten thousand of these and I would likely lose a pound.” he admitted “My veins might clog up though.”

Seeming as if nothing had happened to change their dynamic at all, the pair headed back towards the great hall, squabbling light-heartedly. But in the back of of Marianne’s mind, things had changed. She had begun to see the hunched and brooding Slytherin boy as nothing short of a prince not-so-charming. That was unfair of her though. He was actually very charming indeed. For he, unknowingly, had charmed Marianne Lafayette’s heart. But, it’s hard to tell that someone else had fallen under a his spell, when he was quite busy being enchanted himself…


	7. All I Want For Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions run high as Marianne prepares to confess her feelings and Bog has an encounter with a ghost from his past.

“Tell him.”

“No.”

“Tell him!”

“NO.”

Marianne stood in front of the tall mirror that sat in the girls dormitory. She was staring quite intensely at her own reflection, scrutinizing it. She was not dressed in her usual school robes, but had put on a dress. It was of a simple scarlet design, sleeveless, fitted up to the neck with a flowing skirt sat atop layers of tulle. She had painted her face with girlish tones, replacing her usual dark purples with shades of red and pink. Her hair looked as if she had tried very hard to tame. 

Although she was alone in the room, periodically, she seemed to be objecting to absolutely nothing at all. Of course, to anyone who might happen upon her, she appeared to be shouting “No” at herself, but in her mind, her reflection looked different. Though the girl standing at the mirror was stalwart and very disgruntled, she was staring at a completely different Marianne. Alight, gay, and positively beaming, the mirrored Marianne was practically singing the annoying commands “Go and tell him right now!”

“I said no!” actual Marianne shouted, thankful she was alone “Especially if this is what I’m gonna look like. I look vulgar.”

The reflection did a little spin. “You won’t look like me, silly billy!” actual Marianne grimaced at the ridiculous name “I’m simply how you feel!” 

“Well I feel ridiculous.” she stated flatly, crossing her arms.

The reflection stopped twirling and suddenly looked stern. “Don’t you owe it to yourself to at least give it a shot?”

Marianne clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “I don’t owe anyone anything.”

“He likes you too, you know.”

A slight wince. She knew the reflection wasn’t lying. The way he fumbled to speak to her, the way he tried (and failed quite spectacularly) to hide his eyes when they lit up from seeing her for the first time in the morning, the way his face seemed to age with lines of worry when she was upset. She, of course, had found 100 ways to explain it away. “He’s just shy!”, “Maybe he’s never had a friend before?” and “Well he’s just a nice guy, aye?” But the facts were glaringly obvious.

Marianne sighed, slightly defeated. “See?” The reflection giggled “The worst thing that could happen is-”

“He says ‘No way in hell’ and then I’m left without a friend.” she hissed bitterly.

The reflection puffed its cheeks. “I was GOING TO SAY the worst that can happen is he just wants to be friends. Besides.”

The reflection reached into its pocket and withdrew a small object. “You worked all day on this. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste!”

Marianne withdrew the same item from her own pocket and eyed it. It was a sad little thing, really. She hadn’t had much to work with. She was only able to brave winter’s icy bite long enough to retrieve a few pieces of holly, three odd flower petals, and a weird curling stamine from a very large and angry looking plant. She had spent the better part of her day cursing loudly as she used the severing charm and a permanent sticking charm to try and piece them all together. By the end of it, she’d managed to make something...well it was something. And she hadn’t stuck herself to it. It was intended to be a boutonniere that would go with a small confession of her affections…

Another low sigh escaped the Gryffindor’s lips. “I guess you're right.”

When she looked back to the mirror, it was her own ordinary reflection again. She stared for a moment, fear and self doubt etched into every line of her face. But, even though he words wavered, she swallowed hard and spoke with the fierceness of the lion that crested her house.

“I will tell him.”

~~~

Bog sat silently in the library. There was no book open in front of him today. No, there was far too much on his mind for that. He sat instead, hunch in a large armchair in front of the crackling fire. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands folded in front of his mouth, his shimmering sapphire eyes swimming in deep thought. In fact, looking at him, you wouldn’t be too sure if he had one long eyebrow stitched into his eyes or not from how hard they were concentrated on the dancing flames.

Marianne hadn’t come today. She had told Fidius she would but she would be there later. He had gone to breakfast as usual and tried to preoccupy himself, but he’d ended up in the same place he had every single day of break. Back in the library. Even worse, he managed to finish the book of poetry Marianne had lent him within his first twenty minutes. A stack of various volumes lay next to the chair, mementos of his attempt to distract himself. It hadn’t worked. For the past hour, he had been sitting like this, consumed in his dark and unhappy thoughts.

Had he over stepped yesterday? He had somewhat forced her into the situation. She had seemed pleased but had she been faking? Had he really upset her more? Maybe she was angry with him. Maybe she was playing mind games with him! No, he shouldn’t think such cruel things! She wasn’t like that. Surely she would have said something to indicate she was upset with him. But maybe she hadn’t wanted to be mean…

Fidius’ hands moved to cover his eyes, rubbing them. Of course, the only reason he was so incredibly over doing it with the self destructive thoughts was because he had finally admitted to himself he’d fallen in love yet again. Yes. He admitted it. He’d lain awake all bloody night grumbling and rubbing his temples because he could not manage to shake the girls enchanting smile from his mind. After a good three hours of trying, he had given up. He was in love with Marianne Lafayette and he was not happy about it.

Well, that wasn’t fair. He was happy. Happy she was in his life. But the fear and dread that had welled up inside him since the moment he had started his hard fall backward into this disease was far more overwhelming than the euphoric high he got from the sound of her laughter. He was angry with himself. He swore after the horror of what had happened last time, he would never let anyone in again. Never. But he hadn’t let Marianne in at all. She had dissolved the very walls that would keep her out with those fiery eyes. He was helpless to her gaze and he felt himself pulled into her force. Although, he had never even tried to fight it. But she had no idea who he was or what she was getting herself into...or the things he’d done.

The echo of footsteps in the vast library jolted the Slytherin from his intense brooding. He stood abruptly and spun round, sure Marianne had finally come to meet him. But his face fell instantly. A candle clutched in one hand and a thick text in the other, Madame Arethusa, dressed in evening robes, was making her way towards the fireplace. Fidius thought of diving quickly behind a bookshelf to avoid any sort of confrontation, but the moment he had stood up, her eyes had fixed on to him. A sly smile curled her plump lips.

“Well, well, well!” She began, her bright eyes cold as ice “If it isn’t Fidius Bog, come to do a little potions research?”

Bog felt his rage stirring in his chest. “Gee, Plum. You take the job here just to harass me or was that just a bonus?” he spat, not holding anything back now that he didn’t have to hide his words from Marianne.

“Temper, temper!” the nurse mocked cruelly “It’s that kind of attitude that drives off the ladies, you know. Oh that’s right, I don’t have to tell you.”

She slammed the book she’d been holding down on the table. Bog’s lip curled into a snarl. “You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me this way after what you did.”

A shrill and cold laugh escaped the Madame’s lips. “What I did? Are you daft?” she guffawed, her hand finding her hip “You really think what happened was my fault?”

Bog felt his hands starting to shake. “A favor would have been saying ‘no’ in the first place since you knew it was so wrong.” he hissed, dangerously close to yelling “But you had to teach me a lesson, didn’t you?”

Arethusa looked him up and down with contempt. “Three years later and you still can’t see why what you did was disgusting?” there was no playful notes in her voice now “You can’t force someone to fall in love with you. The fact that you tried is sicken-”

“I WAS SIXTEEN YEARS OLD!” He yelled, his rage finally boiling over “I made a bloody mistake! I have spent years trying to forget what I did and move on!”

“She never did!” Arethusa’s voice had raised and was laced with a dangerous strength “You humiliated her and made the boy she loved leave her! You destroyed her life!”

“You’re the one who gave me the bloody potion, Plum!” he returned, his anger unchecked.

“I only gave you a tool! You’re the one who used it!” she snapped at him “I warned you what would happen and you did it anyway!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” his voice started to give away his exasperation “I never blamed you in the first place! But you never let it go! You made damn sure everyone knew what kind of scum I was for slipping her that damned love potion!”

Madame Arethusa opened her mouth to speak again, but suddenly, she turned to her left. Bog’s gaze followed hers and he felt his heart drop. Standing there, bemused and a bit fearful, was Marianne. From the look on her face, she’d been there for quite sometime. “I...I didn’t mean to interrupt...or listen in or anything.” she stammered, unable to look at either of them “I should uh…”

Bog’s heart had risen back to its original location to slam painfully into his ribcage. “Marianne wait, please.” he pleaded “Let me explain!”

She shook her head. “It’s fine…” she whispered softly “It’s...it’s your business. I shouldn’t have been listening…”

The defeat in her voice caused another painful thud in Bog’s heart. He could feel it splintering. But it was Arethusa who spoke up. “Marianne, was it?” she asked curtly.  
Marianne still didn’t look up at her. Arethusa continued without an answer. “I’ll escort you back to your common room. You shouldn’t be out so late. You might run into someone dangerous.”

She shot a cruel glance at the horrorstruck Fidius. Marianne said nothing. She felt numb. Unsure of what exactly she’d just heard. Had...had Bog hurt someone? The thin fingers of Madame Arethusa clasped around her arm and lead her away. She looked back only for a moment. She watched the form of the Slytherin slump backwards into the arm of the chair, crushed. She felt a soft pang in her heart, but the tight grip of the nurse was pulling her swiftly away.


	8. Is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Marianne see past Fidius' past or will it be the thing that keeps them apart?

Dazed, the only thing in Marianne’s mind was the soft clicking of her own heeled shoes. She knew she was being pulled along by the indignant Madame Arethusa. She was being whisked away from the boy she had just spent most of the day working up the courage to see. Why was she letting this happen? Confusion seemed the likely answer. She had listened to the argument that had taken place. It seems the school’s nurse and Bog had history. I guess Fidius had asked Arethusa for romantic help that had backfired? Or he might have done something worse...

But why had she just shut down? Had...had she really believed Bog had intentionally done something cruel? She didn’t even let him explain himself.

“Come along, girl.” Madame Arethusa urged, quickening her pace “I’m doing this for your own good.”

The matter-of-fact voice rang in her ears, causing something to swell inside her. Her own good? Last time Marianne checked, she was capable of taking care of herself, thanks. And she clearly remembered the last time this particular witch had stepped in. “No.”

Madame Arethusa stopped as she felt the wrist she had been leading pull from her firm clutch. She looked round to see the defiant Gryffindor standing firm, fingers curled into fists. “What the hell do you know about what’s good for me, aye?”

Arethusa groaned. “Look, you don’t know the first thing about that boy.” she spoke gruffly “You have no idea who he is, what he’s done, and what he’s capable of.”

“And what exactly do you know about me then?” Marianne questioned, her eyes narrowing “How do you know what I know or what I am capable of myself?”

Arethusa was taken aback. “Did you listen to a word of the conversation at all?” she returned, sounding exasperated “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into!”

Marianne shrugged. Arethusa rolled her eyes. “Look, that boy is the son of a very dark wizard and he has already proven himself highly likely to follow in his foot steps.” She stated, expecting to see Marianne draw back in fear.

But she remained unchanged. She looked as if she was waiting for the actual punchline. Arethusa sighed. “Fine. You wanna act like you’re so smart? I’ll tell exactly why you should steer clear of him.” 

Marianne waited, an eyebrow raised and her arms crossing. Arethusa’s figure drew in, her form straightening. “Fidius Bog and I were in the same year, I was a Ravenclaw.” She began her story, “He never spoke to anyone and most people were afraid of him. He wasn’t very friendly but it also didn’t help having a parent in Azkaban.”

“It wasn’t till our sixth year that he got himself into trouble. There was this Slytherin girl, name was Torel. She wasn’t the prettiest girl, mind you. But Fidius started following her around like a lost puppy. She was a bleeding saint to put up with it.”

So far, Marianne was just feeling the malice she already harbored for this beastly woman. Arethusa continued. “So, not even considering the consequences, he came to me. I was the top in potions class of course. He wanted to know if I could make him a love potion. I told him, sure, I could make it! But it wasn’t ethical. He said he had to try something, anything. I told him he should just try and talk to her, but he said someone like him could never be good enough for a girl like her.”

Marianne felt a sharp pain in her chest. Not good enough for her? Marianne was hardly good enough for him! Who on earth could be too good for someone like him?

“There was no arguing with him. He insisted I help him. I offered a glamour potion, he refused. I tried to talk him into felix felicius. He said it wasn’t the same. He said he wanted her to love him. I told him a love potion wasn’t the right fix. He couldn’t be swayed. I brewed him the potion and warned him it wouldn’t last.”

Marianne was starting to feel sick. It wasn’t the fact that he had used the potion that was knotting her stomach…

“Well, he took it slipped it into her pumpkin juice. Caused a huge scene when she flung herself across the table at him. You could tell he instantly regretted the decision. He hadn’t known, but she already had a boyfriend…”

“Stop.”

Arethusa looked up from her animated speaking. Marianne’s hands had lowered to cradle her stomach. “No.” Arethusa responded “You wanted to know, so now you’re going to hear it.”

Marianne didn’t stop her. She could feel her heart reaching back to that place by the fire where a broken boy sat, withering away in his pain. 

“Needless to say, Bog hadn’t listened. Torel’s boyfriend tried to hit him with a blasting curse. Bog got lucky and was only hit with a goblet. Broke his finger when he tried to shield himself and the explosion caused those nice scars on his face. Torel and the boy argued and broke up right there. Long story short, the boyfriend was kicked out for attacking Bog. Once she had come to and found out what Bog had done, she was devastated. She told Bog never to come near her again.”

Arethusa seemed to be nearing the end of her tale. “Of course, everyone found out what happened and condemned Fidius. The school eventually decided it would be best if he was removed until Torel could graduate and the whole thing could blow over. He left without a word. I can’t believe he’d ever come back.”

Marianne was shaking. She felt tears spilling from her cheeks. Arethusa saw this and he look changed to sympathy. “Tragic, isn’t it?” she cooed “How one selfish boy can ruin-”

“Shut it.”

Arethusa looked taken aback. The honey colored eyes bore into her, narrowed in hate. “How can you still treat him horribly for that?”

The madame was confused. “What do you mean how could I?”

“He was hurting!” Marianne yelled, the pain swelling in her chest “He...he just wanted...someone to love him…”

The tears were hot on her cheeks. “He made a stupid mistake. Can’t you see how much he regrets what he did?”

And, to Marianne’s surprise, Arethusa’s expression softened. “I’m glad someone else can see it.”

Arethusa put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I wasn’t lying when I said he was dangerous, Miss Marianne.” she spoke gently “He’s a danger to himself.”

A small sniff left Marianne as she stared blankly at the suddenly understanding witch. “I knew he would never tell a soul what had happened to him because he still thinks he was wrong.”

“Well you telling him he was certainly fuels the flames, aye?” Marianne spat back.

“He wouldn’t listen the first time, he wasn’t gonna listen now.” She pointed out “Someone had to tell you. Besides, do you feel any differently than you did before? Do you like him any less?”

“That’s a bloody stupid question, ain’t it?” Marianne replied roughly “Of course I don’t like him any less!”

Her eyes grew wide. Understanding seeped into her. Plum Arethusa had truly been trying to help him. Fidius believed so strongly that he could never be loved, even now. She could see it. The surprise in his eyes whenever she greeted him everyday. How he would stumble when she complimented him. When he thought she couldn’t see him, he’d almost seem to sigh. It was like he couldn’t believe she was there, speaking to him, looking at him. 

“I...I have to go.”

Marianne turned around and immediately headed back to the library. Madame Arethusa watched her, warmth in her soul. “Finally.” she whispered to herself “Now you’ll finally get what I was telling you Fidius, you prat.”

~~~

Marianne walked quickly back into the library, whipping the tears from her face, trying to look her usual self. Her steps were labored by the tall heels she’d decided were a good idea at the time. She prayed Bog was still there. She rounded the book shelves, the fireplace coming into view. He was. He was standing, his eyes transfixed on the flames. His face was blank. Marianne breathed in relief. “Thank Merlin, you never left.”

Bog’s eyes shot wide. Slowly, his head turned. Surly he was hearing things. His gaze found her. No. Impossible. She had left him there for good. How could she be standing there, smiling of all things. “I thought you might have gone!” she laughed gently, her nerves showing in her tone.

Speechless, Fidius could not break his stare. Marianne raised an eyebrow playfully “What’s the matter?”

Words left the Slytherin’s mouth before he had time to compose them “But...I...you..” he sputtered, eliciting a slight giggle from Marianne “...Why?”

She continued to laugh lightly into her hand at the flabbergasted expression on his face. It confirmed all of her suspicions, and, although some of them were heart breaking, that also meant…

“I couldn’t leave without giving you your christmas gift, could I?” she questioned, a small smile on the corners of her red painted lips.

Fidius was starting to find his footing again, but it had become apparent that his chest was so filled with friction from his frantically beating heart, he was sure he was on fire. She...she had come back. No doubt Arethusa had told her everything. Humiliated him. And yet, her she was. She had come all the way back. That was when he realized it. The dress, the shoes, the make up. She had gotten all gussied up to come to this exact place. To come see him. He felt like his heart may burst straight from his chest. 

Marianne seemed to be fussing with something. There was a small bag that hung from her wrist which she was digging in. “Oh blast it all!” She erupted suddenly, sounding distressed.

Somberly, she withdrew something from inside. She looked at it for a moment, a bit defeated. With a small groan, she extended it out to Bog. “Well...I guess it didn’t look much better before I put it in there.” she sighed, her cheeks turning as red as her dress “Don’t make fun of it, okay?”  
Bog could hardly believe it. In her delicate palm rested a crudely made boutonniere. He recognized the various leaves from different plants she would have had to have retrieved out in the greenhouses. Considering her aversion to the cold...Bog could feel the hot sting of tears behind his eyes. “Marianne...I…”

She dropped her gaze to her feet. “Don’t say anything.” she said quickly “It was all I could do on such short notice.”

She could feel the vibrating shake of her nerves as she took a deep breath. “Look, Arethusa told me about everything…”

Bog shrank slightly. “I...I suppose...I assumed as much…” he sounded crestfallen.

Marianne swallowed hard. In one motion, she looked up and stepped forward. Fidius nearly jumped away as he felt her hands slide onto his chest. She pulled at one side of his shirt, gathering it so she could slide the pin of the boutonniere in. But her hands shook so much she missed and pricked herself. “Blast!” she cursed, jumping from the pain.

She fumbled for a few more seconds. “Just...I have a point I...just need to...get this…”

But she was unable to do it, for Bog’s hands reached up and grasped her own. She froze, dropping the gift to the floor. “What do you mean to say. Marianne?”

Another shiver shot through her spine. His hands were so warm and gentle. His voice was low and almost husky as he spoke her name. “I…” she stuttered, feeling foolish but swallowing hard “I don’t care about what happened…”

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply. When she opened them once more, she locked stares with the older Slytherin boy. “I...I think I...I really like you, Fidius.”

Bog seemed unchanged at first. Momentary self doubt overcame the young Gryffindor. But only for a second. Fidius’ face burst into a wide, toothy grin. He let go of her hands and bent over. He scooped the dropped boutonniere from the ground and deftly pinned it into place. “Marianne, this is the most beautiful gift I have ever received.” His eyes glimmered like gems in the light “Oh, and the boutonniere is nice to.”

Marianne opened her mouth to say something, but merlin’s beard, if that wasn’t the smoothest line she’d ever heard. She flushed more furiously. “Shu-shut it, you tosser.” she mumbled, looking away from him for a moment.

But she felt his hands slide around her waist, pulling her into his body. She looked at him again, let her own fingers ascend slowly back to rest on his strong chest. So deep were the oceans of his eyes, she almost lost herself. “I really like you as well, Marianne.” he breathed to her, his face pink with the shyness of his words.

“Really? I had no idea!” Marianne tried to deflect with a crude joke, causing Bog to laugh, but her tone became serious again “Don’t...don’t ever think you aren’t good enough ever again, ok?”

Bog’s face dropped slightly. He felt her fingertips find their way to his rough cheek. A small tug brought his head down just enough for Marianne to reach his other side. Her lips brushed softly against his cheek, he was almost certain they were made of the finest satin. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind…” she whispered into his ear.

A tear escaped Bog’s eye “Therefore is winged cupid painted blind…” he finished, cupping the hand on his cheek “You remembered.”

Marianne smiled. “It’s what you taught me.”

She pulled away slightly so she could face him, her words had become breathy with each shallow inhale. Both hands now on each cheek. She gazed into his face, and in that moment, she had never seen one more beautiful. He cocked a sideways smile “Well, are you gonna stand there and admire me or are you gonna kiss me?” he teased boldly.

She didn’t need to be told twice. She let her hands travel, one into his hair and the other about his neck. Her eyes fluttered shut and she moved in for the kiss, feeling the very moment he took in the last sharp breath. Bogs arms tightened around her waist and he pressed his lips into hers. 

It was as if the room around them had become brighter and dissolved away. His lips felt the way she’d imagined: rough, dry, but with a pleasantness about them as they moved so lightly against hers. She’d never been kissed like this, so earnestly. One arm held her waist with a hand clasped around her hip, the other supporting her back as he leaned into the kiss. She made a small noise of surprise but did not break away, holding him more firmly. 

He couldn’t have dreamed of lips like hers. Exquisite. They tasted of sweet berries and awoke a hunger inside of him. He thought he would break simply after the first moment, but he found himself kissing her more deeply, and she was matching him with as much desire. Her fingers had laced into his hair and tugged ever so lightly, he felt like he would simply melt. 

The two stayed like that for a minute, kissing in their tightly locked embrace, caressing each other. Finally, Marianne broke away. Her breath was coming in short and airy, still holding on to him. Bog had not opened his eyes again yet, still reeling from the moment. Marianne let out a soft laugh. His eyes opened and he saw the beautiful sight of her smile. “Was I that bad?” he joked, still trying to catch his breath.

She looked at him thoughtfully. “I’ve had worse.” she settled on, her grinning widening.  
Bog let out a burst of laughter. “But really.” Marianne continued, her hands slipping around his waist and hugging him close, her head resting on his chest “Merry Christmas, Fidius.”

He didn’t think he had ever felt more human than that moment. For the first time, he could feel the warmth of christmas cheer and holiday spirit setting into his body. He had been given the most precious gift of all this year. A gift he would treasure always. “Merry Christmas, Marianne.”

Above them, it seemed one of the castles enchantments had taken effect. A small vine had snaked down. From the tip, leaves and berries began to form. Bog noticed the light dusting trail of sparkle float down from the forming plant and looked up. He smiled and moved Marianne slightly, pointing up. She too smiled. “Well, I’m not gonna argue with castle!” She shrugged.

Without hesitation, she pulled Bog’s body and found his lips again. This time, Bog lifted her gently and held her into the sweet kiss. This was easily the best christmas he’d ever had.


End file.
